Hydrangeas
by ShayChambers
Summary: Owen and Anya are the perfect couple. The jock and the power squader, the perfect cliche. But... nothing is ever perfect, now is it? Especially not Eli Goldsworthy, but maybe Anya's tired of being perfect all the time. Can Eli help?
1. Sting

**Anya, Open POV**

"I'm trying to help you, Anya. You know that. Discipline is a good thing. You'll thank me one day." Owen's voice was calm, if not disinterested as he attempted to justify his actions for the second time this week. In his opinion, Owen had done nothing to need absolution. He was helping her, helping her better herself so she would succeed in the world. Or at least that's how he saw it.

Anya lowered her head in a nod, knowing better than to disagree, or god forbid, question him. Silently, she ran the back of her hand beneath her eyes, swiping at the few stray tears she could while his back was still turned to her.

_It wasn't always like this._

Try as she might, and she did on a regular basis, Anya could rack her brain trying to pinpoint where she had gone wrong in her relationship to need obedience lessons from Owen, but she'd never figured it out so far. It was likely that if there truly was a reason, she'd never know it.

"I have to go, I'll see you at school tomorrow." Owen said in the same casual tone, unbothered by where the night had ended. He wouldn't even look at her this time. It was heavier than usual. Swiftly gathering his things, Owen brushed past Anya, planting a goodbye kiss on her lips, which she stiffly returned. "No, kiss me back." She swallowed hard, hoping her discretion was minute enough not to spur him on for a second wind. Angling her chin up towards him, Anya did as she was told, kissing Owen softly, trying to stay composed until he broke their contact. He did shortly, grunting an exit, leaving her bedroom door open as he slunk down the hallway.

Hearing the front door slam closed, and the glass panels shake in their frames, Anya took a tentative step forward, leaning into her door until it clicked shut, pressing her forehead to it until she could muster the courage to turn away from it. Eventually she did, slumping towards her bed, passing the mirror she didn't dare sneak a glance into, and slid under her sheets. Nobody would be home until the next afternoon, and Anya didn't even bother shutting the lights off. She didn't know if sleep would come in the dark.

**Eli POV**

_Brrrrrrng._

Eli glanced up at the source of the offending bell, glowering in its direction. He'd had a long night, and the shrill reminder of the next seven hours in captivity was not a welcome one.

"Whoa, dude, you look like death warmed over, what up with that?" Turning his scowl to the instantly recognizable voice behind him, chiding, Eli gave Adam a closer look at the warmth. Pulling open his locker door, he gesture to a small calendar of the month, pointing to the date.

"April twenty third. I don't get it."

"That makes yesterday April twenty second." Eli retorted flatly. "Ring any bells?"

_Brrrrrrng._

Eli growled at the painfully coincidentally timed second bell chiming through the campus.

"Oh." Adam whispered back, a ting of embarrassment both in his voice and washing across his cheeks. "I- sorry dude. You…okay?" Furrowing his brows uncomfortably, Adam fiddled with his hands for a nervous moment before leaning against the locked beside Eli. "The part about looking death, I didn't-"

"I'm fine." Eli snapped, whipping shut his locker, still facing it for a long moment.

"Okay…"

"Just drop it, yes?" He hissed, his eyebrows rising. Adam didn't respond this time.

The past two years have flown by at an unbelievable pace. Unbelievable that so much had happened, began, crashed and burned in those twenty four months. But on April twenty second, those months were no longer relevant. For a dragging, jolting twenty four hours, the past was not the past, and Eli was propelled into reliving every second of that fateful day. The fight. The sound of the rain rapping on the windshield of his hearse, so apt for the situation. The phone call he received an hour later. The ache never changed, nor would the guilt dissipate, probably ever. Reluctantly, he accepted that Julia's death was not a result of him directly. He hadn't been driving the car that hit her, he hadn't kicked her out in the rain, Hell, he hadn't wanted her to leave in the first place!

But she did leave, much more than the vehicle, and the sting was fresh each year.


	2. Discipline

**Anya's POV**

"Anya? Anya, wake up, why aren't you at school? Anya!"

With a wild gasp, the persistent voice shook me from my nightmare, or now seeing that it was nearly noon, my daydream gone wrong. It wasn't too farfetched of an imagery I had been stuck dreaming of for the past few taunting hours.

It was a version of the night before, but on a terrifying loop. Owen, angry at something; what, though, I couldn't pin point, and I knew he wouldn't clue me in. The yelling came first, the obscenities, the insults hurled my way. The things I deserved, I was out of line again. Then the silence. The calm washing over his tight features, the way his jaw clenched as he stared so intensely down at me before taking a heavy breath and instantly composing himself again. That was the worst of it, the silence. When he was yelling, I at least knew what would be coming next. I knew when to brace myself, when to stay quiet and nod in everlasting agreement. Without the edge in his voice, I couldn't tell when he would strike, in more ways than one, and although I'd come to expect it now, I didn't relish the fear of the unknown. He really always had me right where he wanted me.

But now, it was only my mother standing before me, hovering over the unmade bed I was tangled in, in the middle of the school day. Her forehead was wrinkled in frustration, and her fists were loosely clenched at either hip, in a very motherly fashion. She was clearly expecting an explanation, but I had nothing to offer her.

"I overslept." I muttered, haphazardly sitting up and rubbing my worn eyes.

"What were my rules?" She huffed, not giving me a chance to answer before immediately listing them off. I mouthed them along with her, my own attempt to humor myself.

"No parties, no boys, go to school! I was gone for a day, did you follow any of them?"

I groaned my unintelligible non response.

"Anya Marie!"

"Yes! I just… my alarm clock didn't go off! I'm sorry!" I shouted back, eager for the lecture to be over. Scanning the bed, I palmed my phone to check the time, but was instead faced with three missed calls, two voicemails and one text. My heart dropped at Owen's near signature countdown. He must have been trying to reach me for hours. He'd think I was avoiding him, leaving him, ignoring the messages I had slept through because he had exhausted me so roughly the night before. Even after a staggering fourteen hours of sleep, I was drained. We'd hardly been in the same room all night, but still, he had such a powerful hold over me that my body refused to function through any of the alarms that I had indeed slumbered through, nor any of the warnings Owen had sent throughout the day.

My mother's consistent chiding as background noise, I reluctantly scrolled to my inbox to see what was in store for me today.

"_Discipline."_

Shooting out of bed, I threw on the staples of my school uniform, nabbing a headband from my dresser and brushing past my mother, up the stairs, desperate to be in class after all.


	3. Personal Fight Club

**Eli POV**

The day dragged on no less than the one before, or even before that. It was always a hassle getting back into the "swing" of things after Julia's anniversary, but Eli had hoped it would get easier as time went by. He hoped in vain.

It had just been a strange day; not particularly eventful, just the average blasé that Eli was so indecently accustomed to, and he was very much over it already. By second period, the fight or flight temptation had kicked in, with much emphasis on flight when a tardy Clare shuffled anxiously past the classroom door on the way to her class, but he'd endured the sensation until fifth period.

With an exasperated sigh and a restless demeanor, he couldn't take it any longer, and began his departure to the halls. After his _condition _had come to light among the staff, none of the staff batted an eye at him or his shifty behavior. He wasn't thrilled with the special and quite nonclandestine treatment, but on days like today, he was perfectly fine with taking advantage of the privilege.

Shooting a wayward glance to his hard-swallowing history teacher, Eli loosely clutched his binder to his side, quickly escaping the narrowing room, and aimlessly pacing down the hall. With another twelve minutes before classes let out, he wandered to the upperclassmen rooms, circling an empty bank of lockers to occupy his newly found free time.

Fingering through the khaki pockets of his uniform pants, he had located his iPod at the same moment a commotion arose from across the banks. His curiosity piqued, his hand stilled in the fabric containment for a moment, eavesdropping the garbled altercation as best he could make out.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't ignoring you, I promise! I wouldn't!" The shrill voice cried desperately.

Eli's brow crinkled distractedly. This didn't sound to him like the musings of a friendship squabble. The girl was too pleading, too… scared?

Then came a loud bang, and a whimper, followed by a long silence. Eli was torn as to what to do in the awkward situation he'd accidentally placed himself in, secondhand. Fight or flight again. Opting out of either choice, he stood in place, listening for the fight to pursue.

After a few tense moments of nothing, he could faintly overhear a hushed weep from the vacant hall. Not missing a beat, the other voice finally chimed in, growling deeply. "Shut up!" He boomed, and the bank shook. The female whimpered loudly, instantly obliging him.

"After the shit you pulled last night, you thought it was smart to just not show up today?"  
"No, Owen, I-"

"Did you think I'd be happy about it?"

"No, Owen! I-"  
"I said shut up! Make me tell you again, see what happens."

The dark threat left Eli with a series of goosebumps across his whole body, and some greater force propelled him forward, around the other side of the structure. He stood, paces back, faced with one of the jocks in his grade, Owen, and his girlfriend. Anna? Hannah? He vaguely knew of the girl, nothing more than that she was Owen's pretty trophy girl. He had her cornered against a locker, hovering over her with a heavily furrowed brow as mascara streaked down her cheeks, illuminating her aqua orbs.

"I'm sorry, I-"

The moment Eli stepped forward was also the moment Owen was making well of his threat, swinging out and slapping the girl hard across the face. Eli's jaw dropped open with a pop, and he backtracked into the hollow innards of the locker banks, questioning his own sanity over what he thought he just saw.

There was no way that just happened. He imagined it, or they were playing around, right? Swallowing the thoughts, he turned to the nearest locker, playing off casually as if he had just gotten to his, turning the dial with his shaking fingers right as Owen joined him nonchalantly at his own locker.

As he rounded the corner, he nodded to Eli. "Hey." He greeted lazily, running a hand through his hair and landing at his locker, tugging the lock and swapping his class materials.

His smooth, unimpaired demeanor gave Eli chills, and it took a few uncomfortable seconds to realize that he hadn't responded to Owen, instead just facing him with the same popped jaw, and likely horrified expression. Shaking it, he rasped a similar greeting, resting his hand on the surface of the locker before pushing away in the other direction, out of the bank. He saw from the corner of his eye, Owen return to where his girlfriend was apparently still waiting, and tensed again.

"Don't be late tomorrow." He instructed calmly, in a low, intimidating voice, before walking off alone.

Cautiously, perhaps foolishly, Eli once again stepped out from the banks, rounding the corner once Owen was out of Eli's earshot, and found the girl seated on the ground, slummed coldly against the locker with her legs curled up into her chest. Her face was a mess. Undeniably still pretty, granted, but stained with makeup traces, and now a large red mark across her cheekbone to boot.

His heart sunk some at the sight of her, and had he known her better, or at all, he would have already been on the ground alongside her, doing whatever he could to comfort her, but the last thing he wanted was to make her more uncomfortable, and a stranger embracing you after sneaking a private show of your personal fight club classified as discomfort in Eli's book.

Just as he turned to leave, the girl looked up, peering into Eli's eyes and tugging roughly at his heartstrings. He staggered forward to act on his initial instincts, quickly reminding himself that he shouldn't try to touch her after what he'd just witnessed, and returned her gaze for a moment, blinking and leaving the hall.

He couldn't shake the sound of her sobs all that sleepless night, and that stung too.


	4. Paper Cuts

**Thank you so much for your reviews, guys! It makes me want to update so much more :3  
**

**Anya POV**

"_Shoot!_" I muttered for the umpteenth time. I was still staring at the graphite smudged pages of my composition homework, as I had been for the past forty five minutes, with nothing to show for but holes in the pages, both from repetitive erasing, and just plain frustration. Owen was at football practice for another hour or so, and shall we say_ requested_ that I wait for him to be through. So until then, I forced myself into the school's library to blank out over my textbook until the knowledge came to fruition by some mystical force. Today, that force came in the form of a raven haired stranger, with emphasis on the strange.

He walked in, clutching the strap of his skull clad backpack, beelining to the theater section and browsing the rows for a while. Something about him was so familiar, but I couldn't for the life of me place it. Obviously we attended the same school, but it was eerie how drawn to him I was. I knew him better than just another underclassman in the hallways, I was sure of it. I just wasn't sure how.

Trying my best -which granted, wasn't much at the moment- to focus on my studies, my mind and vision kept drifting over to the boy, still lurking through the small rack of plays, consumed by the dusty, un-borrowed pages of the small selection. Forcing myself to buckle down, I let out a sigh of exasperation, turning for the last time back to my book, clutching the pencil and blocking my own view with various folders. A bit extreme, but effective, as I couldn't even see down the rows of plays anymore.

A good chunk of time passed, completely unproductive on my part, and frustrated to the point of calling it quits, I slammed the pencil on the table top, growling under my breath. It was clear that I wouldn't be getting the homework done right now, or tonight at all, and I was only flustering myself by trying to un-jumble the letters of my work. Running my fingers across my forehead and through my hair, I didn't notice the company I'd gathered until I heard the shuffling chair. Peering up, I noticed my folder barrier being knocked forward and jerked back as it toppled, revealing the theater lover again.

"Afraid of paper cuts?" He smirked, seeming to enjoy my kneejerk reaction.

"Afraid of strangers with skull jewelry." I snarked back comfortably, surprised by the ease of rapport with this, again, stranger.

He cocked a brow at me, and shaking his head, scanned over my mess of an assignment. "Afraid of graduating, too?" He taunted, faced with the pathetic scribbles of my work.

"Do I know you?" I pressed bitterly, actually a bit offended by his retort. I narrowed my eyes, still unable to figure out why he seemed so familiar. He took a long moment to answer, shaking his head softly before answering.

"Just… was trying to get some work done," he said, suddenly uncomfortable, lazily pointing down the row of plays he'd come from, "but you struggle pretty loudly, you know." He smirked that same smirk again, giving himself permission to turn my notebook towards him, trying to make out what little I'd managed to jot down. His eyes flicked quickly over the lines. "Grade twelve composition," he nodded, "I took it last year."

"Last year?" My brows crinkled in confusion. I could have sworn he was a grade under me. He shrugged simply, as if I should have recognized his academic prowess. "Writing is kind of my thing, I guess."

I nodded, now slightly embarrassed to be sitting across from someone at least one year my junior and twice my ability, when I couldn't even get through a grammar review. What came next was worse, and I could only watch in horror as he riffled through the papers in the folder he'd knocked down minutes earlier, shuffling over similarly unfinished assignments from the class. He shot me a strange look, pursing his lips. "But… not yours, I take it?" He asked softly in an undecipherable tone.

"I'm dyslexic." I muttered, only confessing so he'd stop bringing up my shortcomings. "So no, I suppose you could say writing, reading, composition… none are exactly my _thing._"

"I-oh. I'm sorry." He said, retreating in his seat. "Well, I was going to offer anyway, but if you need help, the library is open for another half hour and I-"

"The library closes at five." I interrupted, flicking my gaze to him.

"Right, and it's just after four thirty, so-"

"What?" I shot from my seat, sloppily stacking my materials and tearing the folder from the boy's hands. Owen was already out of practice, and after all the work to be on time, or early even, I couldn't let this of all things ruin that progress.

"I'm late, I have to go." I muttered a quick exit, scrambling to tuck my papers wherever they'd fit in my haste to get across campus.

"Do you always interrupt some-"

"I have to go!" I hissed, indeed interrupting again.

"Okay, fine, I don't want to get you in trouble with Owen." He mumbled, slouching back as I froze.

"What did you just say?" My grip faltered and my book slipped from my arms onto the table. Suddenly, I remembered where I knew him from. The hallway, the day I'd come to school late. But how had he known about Owen's temper? He hid it immaculately, and the only way he would know is if… _no_. No, there was no way. "You- I-…" With a sharp exhale, I scurried out of the library, mind ablaze, and practically ran the rest of the way to the football field. He was waiting. _I'd kept him waiting. _I felt like crying already, and each step in his direction felt like walking on lava. "Hey," I greeted innocently, catching my breath once I'd reached the bleachers. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're late." He said in a low tone at the same time I was apologizing.

"I know, I'm really sorry, I was trying to study and-"

He cut me off with a scoff. "What's the point of that? You can barely read." He rolled his eyes, too tuckered out to get too angry with me, to my relief. I clenched my teeth together, but stayed quiet. Defending myself would probably be the last thing I'd ever do.

"So did you have a good practice?" I questioned brightly, aiding his mood further.

"Whatever." He breathed, shaking out his hair. "I haven't showered yet because I waiting for you."

"Oh." I nodded, swallowing back my guilt.

Without further explanation, he jumped from the bleachers, walking towards the locker rooms. Unsure, I stayed put until he turned around.

"Are you coming?" He asked, as if I had the option to stay. I quickly joined him down the field, falling into step beside him, one step behind until we reached the showers. He was in a good enough mood for the rest of the night.


	5. Buoy

**I know it's been five-ever since I've updated, and I'm so sorry for that! Life has been cray-cray, but I'm hoping, now that it's settled down, I'll be able to get back to my stories more frequently. You all still love me right? :)**

**This is just filler. The next chapter will be up directly after this.**

**Anya's POV**

I couldn't sleep. Exhausted as I was, it wouldn't come. My eyes stayed glued all through the night, to the ceiling, and even in the pitch dark of my bedroom, I saw green. It was clear and bright and confused and if I'd known the proper way to pray, I may have asked whoever was out there to let the color fade away.

**Eli's POV**

Insomnia was not a foreign concept to me by a long shot. Long before my diagnosis, I had been a night owl, the literal darkness preferred, but now it was as if my mind had given itself permission to reel at all hours of the night, picking apart scenarios and displaying to me "what-ifs?" As much as I'd welcome the few hours of conscious escape from the reminder of my transgressions. The scene it chose to over analyze tonight didn't surprise me. It was one which I had been dwelling on for days on end, but the events of the afternoon certainly didn't help the matter. The eyes continued to haunt my daydreams, which were really not anything to dream about, and I couldn't shake the look of pure fear incased behind the aqua trying so desperately to hold off from breaking for one more day at a time. Most of the time yes, I could be perceived as someone to jump the gun, look too far into meanings and metaphors that didn't exist, but there was no mistaking it this time. The way she ran from the library like each moment of tardiness was another nail in her figurative coffin. I had to keep the "figurative" part in mind; my waning health was already stretched thin by racking with worry over this virtual stranger. But the worry didn't sink, and I was confident it would only buoy behind my throat until _her_ worry stopped. But when would that happen?


	6. Plans Change

**Anya's POV**

My morning went about as smoothly as the night before. As expected, I hadn't gotten any sleep, nor was I in any better of a mood. Despite that, I slipped the coveted Power Squad uniform onto my body and a smile onto my face, weakly determined to get through the day with less of a hassle as the one previous.

I was met on the steps of the school by Holly J, who even at the ungodly hour of whatever time it was- since my eyes didn't get the memo of being awake and couldn't read a clock at the moment- looked perky and alert as ever. I grumbled bitterly to myself before ascending the cement steps up to her, graciously accepting the steaming and caffeinated cup of happy she extended to me.

"This is why you're my best friend," I thanked her, taking a whiff of the brewed beans as the steam danced over my nose.

"That, and because I save you from the real world in favor of a girl's night?" My eyes finally worked their way open as I registered her request.

"What, tonight?"

"I miss you," she admitted in a hesitant tone. "You're always so busy, what with Owen and practice. You work too hard, they're beating you up and everything," she chuckled, pointing to the smattering of bruises peeking out from under my uniform skirt. My heart flopped at her choice of words, but calmed when she made her own excuse for the marks so that I wouldn't have to. I turned to her to gauge, and she was grinning sheepishly, her coffee in front of her face, probably to hide the anticipation of my refusal. I didn't blame her, I couldn't; each attempt to make plans with me lately had been met with some lame and likely transparent excuse as to why I couldn't, when the reality was that Owen had most of my days scheduled for me already. Rarely did they include anyone beside him. Tonight however, was free from anything but Power Squad practice, and even that ended at six. Some time with my best friend was well overdue, and the thought of it had me shaking in excitement, even without my first sip of the coffee bouncing in my hand.

"That sounds great, count me in. Practice ends around six, so I can shower and change and I'll be over around seven?"

She looked as thrilled as I felt, though we both tried to mute our giddiness. It stung a little that we could both treat time together like such a rare treat, but that's really what it had become lately. We exchanged another mirrored grin as we reached the threshold of the school before she peered over my shoulder. I dreaded following her gaze, knowing by the way her smile faltered, who was approaching behind me. She didn't know. Nobody did, but she knew that when Owen was around, it would be all about him, and he had no plans of changing that, so it was easier not to have anyone else around. I just wish she could know that it wasn't my choice arrangement.

"See you in class?" I whispered, trying to mask the disappointment of our discussion cut short. She nodded knowingly, touching her fingertips to my elbow before turning and stepping into the building, smiling painfully politely at Owen who was now at my side.

"We're going out tonight," he announced, clapping his hands together in front of him. No hello, never a hello.

"What? I have plans tonight," I squeaked, desperately wanting to get to keep them.

"Break them," he shrugged, as if it was the most logical solution he'd ever heard. "We're going out, Pauly's DJing at some club later and can get us in."

I sighed quietly, trying to hide just how much the change of plans broke my heart. "But I have practice," I remembered out loud, hoping the unbreakable plans would get me out of his.

"Until six. Nobody goes clubbing at six, don't be an idiot," he snorted, not meeting my eyes. "His set starts at ten."

Ten. That gave me three hours of girl's night if I showered quickly and got ready at Holly J's house. That was better than nothing; she'd understand me having to bail to keep the plans that "Oops! I totally forgot about until now!" Mustering a smile, I nodded wordlessly to Owen who by know was willing to face me. I was grateful for him being in a decent mood this morning. By my own standards, I was being difficult, so it was nice to skip a punishment when I was already feeling plenty punished by myself. He smiled back, nodding to end the topic as he led us inside.

"Good. I have a surprise when we get there." And with that, he kissed me and broke off to gather with his football buddies, leaving me confused and guilty, a strange and icky mix. I walked straight to my locker, swapping out the folders I'd taken home for my first class's book. Noting that I had just less than ten minutes before homeroom, I dipped into the first classroom I saw, giving in a quick scan that it was empty before slipping into a desk and pulling out the homework I still hadn't completed.

With a readying exhale, I centered the paper in front of me, twirling my pencil as I read the sheet once, twice, still not making sense of it a third time. "Okay," I hissed, squirming in the seat to shake off the confusion. As soon as the word left my tongue, I heard a rustling behind me, so unexpected that it sent me back on my feet, startled at the presence I had sworn wasn't in the room. Spinning to face the source, my face blanked.

It was him again.

"Hello," he greeted in a bright confusion, as wide eyed at my reaction as I was at his presence.

"I didn't know anyone was in here," I breathed, neglecting a greeting in return.

"They are," he smirked, stepping away from the counter he had been working at.

"So I see," I muttered, feeling more and more uncomfortable and displaced as the bare banter continued. He didn't say anything back, to my relief, but did step forward, reaching behind me and grabbing the blank paper, his eyes crinkling as he scanned it. "Is this the same one from yesterday?" He questioned in a voice I'm not certain was meant for me. I nodded, and though his eyes were still on the page, he seemed to take it. Still reading, he reached over to pick up his pen, and to my surprise, started filling in the empty space. I watched in a stupor for a few minutes, too astounded by the action to protest right away.

"Y-you don't have to-"

"Done."

"_Done?"_

"Done."

There was that banter again. With a look of slight disbelief, I tore the paper from his grip, examining it quickly, exhaling sharply when I confirmed that he was, indeed, done.

"Two days for me, five minutes for you," I remarked, frowning. It took a minute for him to respond, and once I was able to peel myself from the completed work, I saw that he looked guilty.

"I took the class last year, remember? Not a big deal." He shrugged, his eyes landing on the floor as he retreated to the counter.

"Right. Um. Thank you," I said genuinely, a little meek myself. I was glad the work was done, very much so, but my ego didn't much appreciate the ease at which this underclassman finished the project I'd been bending over backwards to even comprehend.

He turned back, his face calmer, and nodded. "Like I said, it's my thing."

"Right," I whispered again, dumbfounded to anything else. We stared at each other for just a few seconds before his gaze dipped to my legs, and I thought to be offended before I saw his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow. I looked down, but saw nothing out of the ordinary aside from the bruises.

_Oh._

It took until that point to remember that this boy had seen. He _knew_, and even if I chose to convince him that the incident was a one-time occurrence, he'd still seen and knew what he saw and what he was seeing now. He quickly turned back to the counter, and I awkwardly took a step back, poised to leave the room when he whipped back around, offering out another scrap of paper to me. I took it, turning it to read the words scribbled.

_Two four nine one two nine three_

I blinked a few times, holding out my homework to see if it corresponded somehow, but came up blank.

"It's my phone number," he laughed, amused by my perplexity.

I was more confused now, knowing what I was holding that I was a moment ago. Why was he giving me this? He knew I had a boyfriend, and even if not, did he really think I'd go for this? For him? It was laughable, really, but I was too stunned to laugh.

"In case you need more help." He said simply, shooting me a glance I felt I should have known the meaning of, and returning to his own work. I backed out of the room and down the halls to homeroom just as the bell rang as the class filled. I took my seat beside Holly J, fishing out the phone from the small purse on my shoulder. I have no idea what possessed me to want to keep the number, but I couldn't bring myself to disregard the innocent offer. I plugged the digits in that he'd spelled out, not offended that he'd taken his knowledge of my relationship with numbers into consideration, and tore the scrap to bits, tossing it into the garbage, not willing to risk a strange number being found by Owen, no matter his mood. When I scrolled to the contact name, I blanked again. I didn't know his name. In my haste to make good time for Owen the day before, we really hadn't given much of a proper introduction, and this meeting was about as conventional. I punched a nickname into the field, saving it and returning to my seat, dreading Holly J's excitement for tonight that I may have to crush for the both of us.


	7. Tick

**A/N I know I'm not exactly keeping my word on updating, but things are settling down, so I'm really going to try harder. I'll post some different ship one-shots soon to make up for my absence! :)**

**Anya POV**

_Tick…_

_Tick…_

_Tick…_

All day, each clock I passed seemed to tick and chime louder, reminding me of my dwindling deadline to fathom a believable enough excuse for Holly J not to be furious with me for bailing on the sleepover we were both so looking forward to. Disappointment, though it killed me, I knew would come. But I couldn't risk earning a three sixty from Owen when he was in such a decent mood. I had to protect myself during the rare chances I had.

"An?"

Lost in thought and anxiety, I was hardly aware of my surroundings. It was close to seven and I was safely inside the Sinclair home, skimming through magazines while Holly J painted her toenails.

"You okay?" She chuckled, pulling me the rest of the way out of my stupor.

"Y-yeah," I laughed back, smiling in spite of my daze. "Daydreaming again," I shrugged, setting aside the magazine I hadn't been paying attention to and picking a polish from the smile pile of neutral colors, shaking it against my hand.

"You've been doing a lot of that lately," she commented, in a tone that I had to wonder if she had meant something more from the innocent enough question but was too afraid to broach it.

"I guess," I bit, shrugging again as I opened the tiny vial of Broadway Shimmy Scarlet. She didn't speak for a long moment, and I let myself believe she had dropped the attempted small talk, but I wasn't that lucky, though this time she was that brave.

"Is everything okay? With you? Maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but you seem… so _off _lately, and I can't for the life of me figure it out. It's not me is it?"

So I wasn't as good of an actress as I believed. I'd had plenty of practice masking and fibbing and making excuses up and down for the times when my behavior got too out of character for me. Power Squad could always be blamed for my bruises and scratches, and I could blame my dwindling grades on the dyslexia, lack of sleep, or just plain stupidity and nobody would question it, but the consistent loss of confidence I'd endured over the last semester went without explanation. Luckily, up until this point, nobody had noticed it, or at least they didn't have the courage to question it. And now that they have… how was I to answer?

"I'm fine, Holly J." My tone was shaky, and my hand followed, causing me to Scarlet my big toe. Instantly, my mind went into overdrive, fingering through the mental book of excuses and lies I'd filed away over the past few months that had always gotten me out of situations like this. But I'd never had to string my own best friend through the web. She knew me better than anyone; too well to believe them.

"But it's not me?" She pressed in a soft voice, and I knew she was considering the risk. I bit my lip, hard, shaking my head, and it took a long few more ticks of the clock before I could face her. "No. No of course it's not you. It's not anything, I've just been busy," I excused lamely. I should have expected the next words out of her mouth. It was perfectly my luck that they'd surface sooner or later.

"You're not too busy for Owen," she sighed, and I knew it wasn't intended to sting like it did. As expert as I'd grown with the excuses, this was one claim I couldn't fake logic for. I couldn't tell her that Owen was just why I was always occupied, how it wasn't up to me how to use the rare free time I could manage to salvage, and that even on nights like tonight, where I was so happy to get one night to myself, and by default with Holly J, like clockwork he ripped that from my hands, too. Maybe I wasn't the only expert in the relationship.

"I know you don't like him, but-"

"No," she interrupted. "I didn't mean to start anything. I'm over all of that, and if he makes you happy, I'm happy that you're with him. I'm just jealous I guess," she laughed softly.

Happy. She was happy for me. I wish she knew; almost as much as I constantly wished there was nothing to know, but there was so much I was hiding, and it would seem I did it so well that my misery negated happiness from my best friend. The buzz of my phone caught my attention, and blinking down to the screen, it was the source of the awkward turn of the conversation. I hadn't realized it had gotten so late, and Owen was already telling me he'd be on his way to pick me up in ten minutes. From my house, where I was supposed to be. By this point, I was out of excuses, and my effort had run dry, and there was only one solution I saw fit that would end this conversation and get me home without explanation.

"Clearly," I snapped, beginning to gather my belongings into my purse, despite her surprised protests. "And if you can't accept that he's an important part of my life, maybe you shouldn't be on the same level as him in it," I spat decisively.

"What? Anya, no, that's not what I… look, don't go, okay? I'm sorry if you took what I said like that, but I truly didn't mean it to sound like I didn't accept him! Just, stay, please? We can talk it out, or drop it completely and watch _27 Dresses,_ okay? James Marsden, what more do you need?" She grinned, struggling to make light of things.

"To not be here," I answered her rhetorical question, exiting the room and home without turning back, as not to worsen the guilt already panging like needles in my chest. I had wasted four minutes faking the exit, and it would take much more than the six I had left to dwell on the mistake I'd just made.


End file.
